


They Can't Take The Moon From Us (The Childhood Sweethearts Remix)

by SashaDistan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Friends to Lovers, Galra Keith (Voltron), Galra Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Minor Injuries, Omega Shiro (Voltron), Space Flight, Sparring, Swimming, non-human biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25486522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaDistan/pseuds/SashaDistan
Summary: Two young Galra boys from opposing clans meet by accident on an uninhabited moon, and become unlikely friends. Despite all the reasons they shouldn't, the boys keep meeting and their friendship blossoms as they grow up.Until one day, when Keith refuses to leave the moon without his best friend and his heart.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 134
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	They Can't Take The Moon From Us (The Childhood Sweethearts Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [could take us to the sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079680) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> Thank you to the incredible [Lole](https://twitter.com/@leandralena) for being an awesome editor.
> 
> Well, I seem to have developed a penchant for writing pinch hits! This is my 4th one (yikes). Anyways, I hope you enjoy this remix of rememberhow's fic.  
> I wanted to take the idea of them both being Galra and from enemy clans, and play more with the a/b/o elements of the original fic. And I wanted to the place where they met to still be super important.
> 
> This fic now has art by the wonderful [Zariu Wolf](https://twitter.com/XxZariuWolf) which you can find at the end of the fic and which I absolutely adore!

The rig touches down in a valley on some uninhabited moon, just far enough from Keith’s home station that the comm unit doesn’t have the power to transmit his location to his parents. He’s not supposed to fly alone, and he’s certainly not supposed to steal a craft from the main hanger and go joyriding when he should be in school, but he doesn’t care. Kolivan’s rule is that no children can fly solo, and since everyone knows once you present, you’re no longer officially a child, Keith figures he’s covered.

It’s not his fault he’s presented early, earlier than anyone else ever has.

He kills the engine and leaves the little flyer, tacking the short-range beacon from his belt to the hull before taking off into the dense woodland. The greenery is thick and lush, and the air is humid and dense. Keith tucks his blade into his belt as he walks – it’s another thing someone his age isn’t supposed to have, but Kolivan could hardly keep it from him now that he’s presented – and begins to loosen the fastenings at the neck of his suit as he makes his way towards the sounds of water.

Really, it’s amazing there’s no one living on such a nice little moon, even if it’s not large enough to be fully self-sustaining for sentient life. Keith regrets the thought half a tic later when he trips over a tree root and sees a blurry flash of _another_ , slightly larger, spacecraft and the figure of another person with their back to him before he falls over. He twists, rolling out of the motion and into a crouch, grabbing for the blade in his belt, and the other person turns.

They are Galra too, but not Marmoran: their fur is darker, their hair silvery bright at the front, and they have a long tail, with a tuft like stardust at the tip. An omega. Keith curls his lip, exposing his newly grown in fangs to the stranger who is both older and bigger than he is. Keith is all too aware that assuming someone is weak just because they are an omega is a stupid thing to do, because Antok is the fiercest warrior in the Blades, and Keith has seen him best Kolivan more than once.

“Hello.” The omega offers him a soft wave. “Are you gonna use that? It looks a little big for you.”

Keith blinks and stares down at the knife in his hand. Blades are made for Marmorans when they present, and Keith is not only too young but also too small – the littlest kit on the base – and the knife looks massive in his hand. He snarls.

“I didn’t think there was anyone else here,” the other kid says, shoulders slumping. “Sorry, I’ll-”

“Stay.”

Keith doesn’t quite know why he snaps, but he does. The omega’s pretty, plum-purple tufted ears turn towards him, his eyes brightening at the command.

“It’s fine. Stay.” He chews his lip, wincing when the motion draws blood. He’s still not used to having fangs, though he’s grateful the teething pains have eased. The base had practically run out of iced juniberry fruits when it had gotten really bad. “I’m Keith.”

“Shiro.” The omega makes a gesture of welcome with one arm before moving far enough away to sit down on a crate pulled from the little craft he flew here in. Keith sits on the lowest branch of the tree attached to the root he fell over. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you from Arus?”

Keith scoffs, plucking a leaf the size of his forearm from the tree, beginning to strip it from the stem with his claws. The rich glossy green makes a great counterpart to his pale lilac fur.

“No.” He scans Shiro’s face, but the older boy looks curious and non-hostile. Kolivan says they aren’t supposed to trust outsiders, but Keith’s father had been an outsider, and now he’s an important security expert; and the Marmoran’s take security very seriously. “I’m Marmoran.”

“C _holerny!_ You’re one of them!” Shiro’s expression is one of shock, but his voice is soft with wonder, his long tail coiling around his wrist as his amber eyes go round. “A real Marmoran…”

Keith is instantly defensive, dropping the remains of his leaf, knife back in his hand as his switches his position on the low branch to a defensive crouch. The other Galra is bigger than him, with a longer reach and a tail which he obviously knows how to use. Keith would never admit to being scared, but he is a little.

“Who are you!?” he snaps, ears pressing back into his hair.

“Shiro. I told you.”

“Where are you from?” Keith raises his knife. He’s had no training, nothing beyond watching his mother and a few of the others fight. He’s not allowed to watch the Blades train, though his father has snuck him in to observe a few Trials in the past. He doesn’t know much, but he hopes it’s enough. “Where?!”

To his surprise, Shiro shuffles, ducking his head, tail curving tight around his ankles as he draws his knees up to his chest. Keith sniffs and there is a scent he adores – though he cannot name it – something sweet and warm, delicious. It reminds him of the food stalls when he visits swap moons and trading posts with his family, when treats are plentiful and even Kolivan smiles. But Shiro isn’t smiling, he looks guilty.

“Please…. I’m sorry.” He coils a silver lock of hair around one claw, tugging his forehead forward to his knees. “I’m from Garris.”

“ _Bostwo!_ ” Keith feels his blood chill in his veins. No wonder Shiro’s fur is so dark. Suddenly his appearance makes sense, because he’s from a clan known for their dedication to the purity of the Galra bloodline. But Shiro’s obvious unhappiness eases the tension in his body. He does not want this omega to be scared of him, and though Shiro is older and larger, he does not seem like a threat. And no teenager can control their scent that well. Keith snorts, and sheaths his blade once more. “Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to get away, have some peace and quiet for a while.” Shiro switches to stroking the tufted tip of his tail instead of pulling on his hair. “I’m so sick of answering everyone’s questions of ‘aren’t I too big to be an omega’ and ‘which alphas do I like’ and ‘when’s my heat going to be’. I hate it.” He shuffled uncomfortably again. “The only decent thing about being an omega is getting a tail, but I wanted fangs.”

There is silence for a bit, and Keith drops down from his branch.

“They hurt,” he says eventually. “Does it hurt to grow a tail, too?”

“Only at first, after a day it just feels tingly, and they give you painkillers for it anyways.” Shiro offers him a small smile. “I like your fangs, they’re pretty.”

“My mom says they’re too big for my mouth.” Keith exhales sharply, then pulls at his upper lip, wishing his jaw closed the way it always used to, but no longer can. “Everything is too big or grown up for me apparently.”

“I’m sorry.”

Keith wonders if it’s an omega instinct to calm an alpha, or just the way Shiro is, but the other boy’s scent goes warmer and sweeter, like candy. Keith has to stop himself from drooling.

“But you’ll grow.”

“Not fast enough.” Keith huffs, pacing, then glances towards the softly steaming oasis which lies beyond Shiro’s spacecraft. “I’m only eleven.”

“I was fourteen last phoeb. I only presented then too, I’m kind of late.”

“You seem fine to me.” Keith tugs on the loose neck of his suit, it’s hot and sticky over his fur. “Can you swim Shiro?”

Shiro’s eyes flash, his grin going broad.

“I’ll race you.”

They don’t pause long enough to decide stakes, because they are two small boys, there is a pool of warm water, and no adults around to tell them not to run or splash each other.

*

Keith is already in the water when he watches Shiro’s spacecraft descend into the little clearing by the water. At least, he assumes it’s Shiro’s because it looks pretty similar to the one he was using last time and because no one else would know where the heck to find him anyway. Like last time, he’s parked his rig a little distance away, hidden in the cover of the jungle, before trekking here on foot. His knife is slung around his waist on a cord, but the rest of his clothes are draped over the low tree branch.

Shiro emerges from his craft with a broad smile, a wave, and a satchel of goodies held aloft with his tail. Keith barks and begins swimming to the shore.

“Wait up, I’ll come in!”

“Bring the snacks!” Keith swims until he can wade, then stands with the water up to his waist, eyes tracking the parcel as Shiro shucks off his clothes and takes two round items from the bag. Then he turns to look at Keith fully, and his mouth falls open.

“ _Stars..._ Keith _.”_

Keith wraps his arms self-consciously across his chest, ears whipping back into his hair even as he sinks back down into the water. They’d ended up swimming in their clothes last time, in too much of a rush to stop and consider the relative idiocy of returning home soaked through their fur. And he’s allowed himself to forget that someone from Garris like Shiro, has probably never seen anyone who looks like him.

“Hey, no. _Kiepski,_ I’m sorry Keith. I was just… surprised. Can I see again?”

Keith narrows his eyes. His eyes are weird too, purple and not yellow, and his hair is black like the space in between stars. The black at least is closer to the dark shades the rest of his clan sport, as is his mostly lilac fur. But the stripes and spots…

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“I think it’s pretty. And unusual, and that’s cool. You’re like a _pantra-smuga._ Let me see again?”

And Shiro sounds so genuine, and smells so sweet – sweeter even than the bright blue citrus sweets he’s brought – that Keith stands up once more, exposing his pale fur and dark stripes to the air. They are purple, deeper and darker even than the rich shade of Shiro’s fur, and spread from his spine where they are thick and jagged, round his ribs and over his shoulders and down his hips in thin whorls, no wider than his blade. Interspersed with them are bright white points, tiny marks in his short pelt where the fur grows finer and smoother. His mother used to count them, touching each with her fingertips as Keith drifted off to sleep, lulled by her voice. There are even a few markings which creep down his arms and thighs, but thankfully they stop before his elbows and knees, and are easy to hide in his clothes.

“Why would you hide them?” Shiro asks him as they lounge on giant mandragora leaves, half in and half out of the water, crunching their way through the sugary candy.

“They’re different.”

“I thought the Marmora liked things that were different; more than the Garris, anyway.”

Keith frowns and chews his lip. He’s become far better at not actually biting himself now, but then, it’s now been six phoebs since his fangs grew in.

“Anything too different is still weird. And it’s not like my dad has stripes and ...freckles. Where did they come from?”

“Maybe it’s like a prophecy?”

Keith snorts, and Shiro turns to look at him, his eyes soft and dreamy before he turns his gaze upward once more. The atmosphere is thin enough for them to make out the stars above, even though it’s light and the air is hot and humid.

“You’re like a nebulae Keith, maybe the stars gave them to you.”

“You’re weird.” Keith reaches out, feeling bold, and touches at the silvery locks at the front of Shiro’s hair. “You cut it.”

“Yeah. Everyone cuts their hair in Garris.” He sighs. “I should probably dye it too.”

“Why?”

“We don’t like different in Garris. Not even a little bit.”

Keith feels suddenly guilty for ever complaining about his markings. Sure, a few people have said it weird for his fur to have so many patterns and colours, the dark whorls and the bright spots, but the only person who hates them is Keith himself.

“Shiro… you said I look like… whatever, but- do you know what the Marmora call that?” He tugs again at Shiro’s silver forelock as he speaks.

“No, what?”

“ _Zaskozony._ You are touched by the stars, it’s a symbol. A great blessing.” Keith smiles at his friend. “If anyone is due to fulfil a prophecy, it’ll be you.”

“Tsk, what do you know, kid?” Shiro’s smile is fond, there is no heat in his words.

“More than you. And I’m not a kid. I’m twelve now.”

Shiro motions to the blade slung around his waist. It’s still big compared to him.

“They let you start training with that yet?”

“No.” Keith holds out his hand, palm up, and the omega deposits another candy in it automatically. “Kolivan says I have to be _bigger_ , though he refuses to say when that’ll be.”

“I start flight school next movement.” Shiro offers, as a way to change the conversation if Keith wants. Keith grunts with interest. “Gonna get to fly some really cool ships…”

It’s not until later, when Keith is dressed and making his way back to his stolen rig, that he realises Shiro let him have the last of the sweets.

*

Shiro isn’t there when Keith alights on the moon, but he knew that would be the case. Instead of hiding his craft, he goes directly to the tree where he had first sat and talked with Shiro, and pries open the concealed hollow with the tip of his knife. There is a quintant old pastry wrapped in foil, and a square-ish metal lozenge about the size of his thumb. Excitedly, he plugs it into his data pad and barks with surprise and delight when a little projection of his friend springs up before him.

“Keith!” There is a clatter, and perspective shifts suddenly until the only thing that is projected is Shiro’s cute tufted tail tip. “Oh _gowno_ , hang on.”

Keith uses the interlude to climb up into the tree with his pastry and datapad, slumping against the trunk on a high branch, long legs swinging in the humid air. Eventually the projection rights itself, and in the grainy pixels of Shiro’s shadow, he can make out the inside of a cockpit.

“So, I’m recording this while we’re flying through the Toutatis asteroid field, which is probably a stupid idea, but at least no one is going to walk in and disturb me.” There is a sudden intake of sharp breath, and Shiro ducks in and out of the image. “No one apart from the odd large rock which would rather I was dead. I tried recording in the barracks but I kept on being interrupted by _glupeks._ I swear, no one knows how to mind their own business in flight school. Everyone is always sticking their noses into every else’s lives and secrets. It’s hard enough being like, the only omega in my class without everyone trying to poke fun at me recording messages for my-” Shiro flushes, and even through his dark fur and the projected image, Keith can tell he’s embarrassed by what he’s about to say. His ears are flicking all over the place, and his eyes are huge suddenly. “-secret _sympatia._ That’s what everyone says!” he adds hurriedly. “It’s not like I ever mentioned anything.”

Keith snorts, rolling his eyes, and smiles when his friend gets back to more important matters, like what kind of ships he’s been allowed to fly.

“Oh Keith, we get to train on these solar surfers! They’re so cool! They zip along like anything, and you can get some pretty good height on them if your balance is good enough. I watched one of the third years dive his off a cliff with the sail folded up, and I just had to try it. We’re not supposed to – she wasn’t even supposed to – and everyone else said there was no way to do it and that it was suicide.”

“So, you did it…” Keith murmurs to himself, even though he knows Shiro can’t hear him.

“So, I did it!” Shiro’s grin is massive as he leans in close to his recording device. “It was amazing! The wind rushes through your hair and your stomach feels like it’s about to drop out though your spine but it doesn’t even matter. Because when I kicked the engine back into life and put the sail up and lift was _incredible_. Ahhh!” Shiro slumps back into his seat, his ears relaxed out to the side, his smile blissed out and soft. “I really wish I could show you. Properly.”

“Me too buddy.”

“So, what have to been up to? Are you any taller? I feel like it’s been ages since we actually saw each other.”

“You sap, it’s been like, less than a deca-phoeb. And we talk on vid-message all the time.”

“Hey, mark yourself on the tree again like last time?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“OK, I gotta go. Enjoy the pastry, and bring more of those kebabs next time we hook up, OK? See you soon Starboy!”

“You’re such a nerd,” Keith sighs as Shiro’s hologram waves frantically before the recording cuts off, the pixels flickering once and then vanishing back into the lozenge. He smiles, then waggles his fingers, waving back to the ghost image of his friend.

He climbs down the tree, scrunching the wrapper of the pastry as he goes, shoving it into the only pocket on his suit. He likes it, it’s dark and form fitting and so like the Blades suit he might one day get to wear if he passes the Trials. The Trials Kolivan has said he can take after his next birthday. Finally. He’s had to wait three years. It’s not fair.

At the base of the straightest section of their tree is a flat rock, set into a cleared space of soil so that it rests level and firm, and Keith toes off his boots before hopping up onto it, standing tall and moving back until his head bumps against the bark. He reaches up with his hand, pressing it tight to trunk as he swivels, pulling his knife out to take the place of his fingers to mark his height on the tree in a deep notch. He carves the letter of his name next to it, and grins. It’s been six phoebs since he last measured himself – again at Shiro’s insistence – and he’s grown another hand and a half in that time. He’s still not the tallest person in his class, he knows he never will be, but he’s no longer _the short one_. And he’s also no longer the only one who’s presented. Little by little, his peers are starting to bloom into their secondary genders, and Keith knows now how Shiro felt about the endless curious questions he had to face back when they first met.

Keith never wants to hear the phrase ‘ _can I scent you?’_ ever again.

He reaches up the tree with his bare finger tips to find the groove Shiro marked in the tree when he was here the quintant before, amazed that he can only just reach it when he stands on tip toes. Shiro has grown too, but more than Keith has, and he’s eighteen now: a full grown up even by Kolivan’s standards. Keith doubts it would be easy to knock the omega on his ass any more when they wrestle. He lets his fingers trail over the letter of Shiro’s name carved into the tree, then steps back and glances around.

He doesn’t know what he’s checking for, because there’s not another living sentient soul on this little moon, but he feels embarrassed anyway as he moves close, wrapping him arms around the tree where Shiro’s middle would be.

Keith’s nearly fifteen now, he’s grown up enough to have learnt the history of animosity between his people and those of Garris, and he knows he shouldn’t still be nursing his stupid little crush. But as he sits down to record a message for Shiro on the projector, he knows that ‘shouldn’t’ and ‘mustn’t’ are things which just don’t apply to this. Shiro’s scent doesn’t come through on a recorded message, and the loss makes his chest hurt.

*

Keith turns in a tight circle, keeping Shiro in the centre of his visual field as the older boy moves around him, closing the distance between them but not quite close enough for Keith to throw himself forward. He’s already sporting a deep aching bruise under his fur from the whip slice of Shiro’s tail, and he knows that his unusual tactic of rushing in and giving it everything he’s got is not going to work against this opponent. He ducks as he turns again, and feints left as though going to grab for Shiro’s sinuous tail. It works, and Shiro tucks it around out of the way, slowing his feet as he does so. It’s the perfect opening, and Keith slips in under his reach, plants a tidy blow to his sternum, hooks a bare foot behind his ankle and sends them both tumbling to the ground.

Shiro on his back is no less formidable an enemy, and his three years and head and shoulders height difference both give him advantages. But Keith is quick, fast as a solar flare, and he scrambles over Shiro’s back as the omega twists, locking his legs around Shiro’s thighs, grabbing for his arm to pin his hand to his back. His knocks Shiro’s head forwards with his own, and growls through his fangs as he feels his friend give underneath him. His chuff is triumphant and proud.

“Pinned ya!”

“Yeah, you did,” Shiro’s voice is warm and soft, and Keith knows he’s smiling even though he can’t see his face. “You’ve gotten so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Keith.” Shiro wriggles, grunting. “Hey Keith? You gonna let me up? I yield, remember?”

“Oh, sorry.” Keith feels the words leave his lips, but he doesn’t actually make any move to get off his friend. He knows he should, he knows that pinning your best friend to the ground with your entire body isn’t usually something you should do. Shiro can’t be comfortable after all. And yet, the omega’s scent is as warm and soft as his voice, delicious like baked things and candy, and Keith has to fight his desire to simply lean forward and scent him before he can get up. “You wanna go another round, or…?”

“Let’s leave it. You won half the bouts after all.”

“No tie breaker today? You getting old on me, is that is?”

“Ha! Brat.” Shiro rolls over as Keith climbs off him, tail coiling quickly around his ankles to send Keith sprawling on his ass in the low undergrowth. “I’m still only three years older than you, Starboy. Just cause you finally started growing doesn’t mean you stepped into a quantum abyss and got extra years.”

“Fine, fine.” Keith exhales and sprawls out his limbs into the mass of soft ferns and little twisty succulents which grow dense just around the edge of the clearing here. “You want to swim today?”

Shiro’s fingers go to the collar of his flight suit – Keith likes the look on him, solid black with purple slashes up the inside of the thighs and under the arms which only serve to highlight how well built Shiro is – but then he hesitates.

“I shouldn’t… I smell.”

Keith sits up, drinking down the moist air. He never feels the need to get hydration pouches when he’s here, the air is more like drinking than breathing. There is a scent in the air, something new beyond just the familiar and well-loved scent of Shiro. It’s dark and spicy, rich like good meat and the plum-red wine Antok slips him whenever his mother isn’t around.

“You smell fine to me.”

To his surprise, Shiro flushes, his fur puffing out even whilst his ears press back into his hair. He ducks, allowing himself to hide behind his silver forelock.

“What?”

“Keith… it’s not the best timing. I probably shouldn’t have come today, but we’ve not seen each other in such a long time. I wanted to remind myself what you looked like just beyond a marking on a tree.”

“Shiro?”

“Speaking of,” Shiro is obviously trying to change the subject, but he offers Keith his hand to get up with all the same, “we should measure you.”

“You too.”

“I haven’t grown since last time. I’m nineteen after all, Keith.”

Keith snorts.

“Well then you must be old.”

“Brat!” Shiro reaches out and scrubs his hair with his knuckles, forcing Keith to dance away once more in order to avoid him. “Just because you’re gonna be the youngest person ever to get the chance to become a Blade….”

Keith preens, his chest practically vibrating with pleasure at the reminder. Kolivan has indeed finally decided to allow Keith the honour of having his Trial. He can’t wait, but his rut is in a movement, so it seems smarter to wait until right after when he’ll be fresh and ready and not worrying about the adrenaline giving him sudden onset rut. The very last thing he wants is to screw up his Trial with his hormones. You don’t get a second go at the Trials, after all.

“It’s gonna be awesome.” Keith hops up on the slab of rock and stays very still as Shiro marks his height on the tree. He’s grown by half a hand since the last time they actually got to be here together nearly a deca-pheob ago, but he’s still nowhere near Shiro’s dizzying height. “You do think I’ll get in, right?”

Shiro doesn’t respond, and Keith peers up at his friend. Shiro is leaning with one arm braced against the tree trunk over Keith’s head, looking down at him with his amber eyes dark under his lashes. There’s no movement in the clearing apart from the quick swish and flick of Shiro’s ceaseless tail.

“Shiro?”

And then all of a sudden, Shiro blinks, fur shivering as he shakes himself, and he comes back to himself.

“You alright old timer? You zoned out there a minute.”

“Yeah… wow, sorry. Yeah, like I said, bad timing.”

Keith frowns, ears flicking forward in alarm. Something about Shiro’s tone is off, and Keith doesn’t like the sorrowful set of his friend’s shoulders.

“It’s never bad when we get to be together, Shiro. Never.”

He wants to tell Shiro that this is the happiest he ever is. Keith’s been looking forwards to taking his Trial and being a Blade all his life, but if he’s honest with himself, he knows he would trade the chance in right now for more time with Shiro. It’s not as easy to get away now as it was when they were little kids, Shiro has training exercises and missions with the Garris – he’s a fully-fledged pilot now after all – and Keith has more responsibilities too as one of the eldest kits on the base. He can’t just steal a flyer whenever he wants to any more. Even Ulaz has pestered him to grow up and become more serious.

But Shiro looks nervous still, worried, and Keith simply does what comes naturally. His best friend seems scared, so Keith wraps his arms tight around him and holds him close. Shiro groans softly, sinking into the contact, his head dropping to Keith’s shoulder, nuzzling close. Keith tilts his head automatically, making room for the omega to get to his neck where his scent is the strongest, and then the groan Shiro makes is deeper still. All of a sudden, the changing scent in the air makes sense to Keith, and he freezes.

Shiro reacts like he was struck, jumping back from Keith’s embrace.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry Keith!”

“Shiro….” Keith wants to make himself soothing and calming, but he’s not sure how. He smiles reassuringly, keeping his fangs closed. “It’s OK.”

“I’m sorry.” Shiro runs his hands through his hair, sweeping his bangs away from his face. Keith is struck by the handsome angles of his friend’s face. Shiro is an unusual omega to be sure, but that only makes him more perfect, not less. “It’s, you know, omega stuff.”

“Shiro…” Keith says again, trying not to rumble too possessively in his chest. Apart from having a tail, Shiro doesn’t act much like a typical omega, and it never seems to have affected their easy friendship. But Keith knows he’d be lying to himself if he tried to pretend that he doesn’t think of Shiro. He thinks of Shiro often, probably more than he ought. “Can I do anything to help?”

Shiro inhales again, then shudders bodily, the twitch travelling all the way to the tip of his stardust tufted tail.

“You do help Keith. You always help.”

*

“Keith!”

Keith beams as he jogs up towards Shiro, only belatedly realising that _of course_ his friend can’t see his expression. He scoffs at himself, tugging the hood of his uniform back, the mask dissipating as he does so, shaking out the long coil of his braid.

“Hey buddy!” He grins with all his fangs, then stops just short of where Shiro is standing by the water’s edge to hop up onto a little knoll of ferns and earth. He throws his arms wide, puffing out his chest to show off his new gear. Shiro wolf whistles at him, and Keith blushes and hides back behind his unruly fringe once more.

“Looking good, Starboy!” Shiro strips off his shirt, throwing it towards Keith who snatches it out of the air before hanging it over the low branch of their tree. “Suits you. Bet that things takes forever to get out of though, you’re gonna be last in the water again.”

“And I thought you said I was the brat!” Keith snaps back happily. “Little do you know…”

He thumps the depressurization button on the suit – it iss high up on the neck and hidden under a flap of fabric and a seam – hard to press, unless you try to. A useful safety feature in order to avoid being accidentally swamped with high tech carbon fibre zylon in the middle of a fight, but now it makes the second skin of Keith’s Blades uniform fall away in a series of suddenly baggy folds. Keith steps out of his one piece boots-and-suit-and-gloves, and streaks into the water. He is a hair in front of Shiro, splashing the older man and making him splutter in alarm and aggravation.

“Oh, _k_ _iepski_ ,” Keith says with false modestly, not feeling sorry in the slightest, “did I win?”

“You little-” Shiro gets him in a neck hold and scrubs his scalp with his fist. Keith waits until it’s over, then ducks down into the warmth of the oasis, dragging Shiro with him.

They surface both spluttering; Shiro’s bangs plastered to his forehead, Keith’s hair whipping in all directions.

“It looks great Keith. I always knew you’d make a really badass looking Blade.”

“Thanks, Shiro.” Keith pulls his friend into a half embrace, trying not to dig his nose into the omega’s neck and memorize his scent. “You don’t hate me for joining them do you?”

“Keith… why would I hate you. You’ve talked of little else for years.”

“But… you’re from Garris.”

Shiro frowns, and to Keith’s consternation, takes a step back.

“That’s never mattered before. Keith, what’s going on?”

“Just…” Keith knows he can’t say most of what he wants. He knows that Kolivan would kick him out for this, and rightly so, but Keith can’t think of another way to explain and still leave his friend with an idea of what’s going on within his own clan. “We had an agent in Garris. Undercover. The things he learnt… it was horrible.”

“Keith?”

“I know why Kolivan says we can’t ever be friends, Marmora and Garris. We’re too different.”

“Oh, Keith. You know, not everyone in Garris is the same, even if they’d like us to all look identical.”

“I know that.” Keith crosses his arms over his chest, fingers automatically positioning to hide the boldest of his whorls and freckles.

Shiro reaches out and takes his hand, a deep purple finger and thumb encircling his wrist. Keith lets himself be tugged until he standing up to his waist in the water, Shiro pressed along his front.

“What’s really the matter, Keith?”

Keith sniffles. Alphas aren’t supposed to cry, and he never would in front of anyone else, but Shiro… Keith already knows he can show any part of himself to Shiro. He presses his ears back into his hair, and feels Shiro’s tail begin to snake around his waist.

“What’s really the matter, Keith?”

Keith breathes deep, swallowing the scent of his friend.

“What if I go on a mission and hurt someone you care about, Shiro? What if they die because of me?”

“You won’t.” Shiro’s voice is rich and confident, and Keith wants to believe him, but Shiro doesn’t know what Keith will be asked to do as a Blade. And the omega is an adult, he has people. He might not realise how important someone might be to him until they’re gone.

“But, Shiro-”

Shiro interrupts by tugging him close again, running four strong, sharp claws through his hair. Keith sags against him, tension easing from his feet and out into the water.

“You could never harm the person most important to me Keith, because you’re right here.”

“Shiro…” Keith breathes, hardly daring to believe his ears.

“Of course it’s you Keith. _Oczywisi._ Marmoran or not, it’s always been you.”

*

“Look. It’s cool right?” Keith holds the little green glowing crystal out towards the projector, offering it to Shiro whilst cradling the other close to his chest. “Dug them out of the ground on Ballybran. They’re paired, so one resonates with the other. I don’t know if we’ll be able to talk through them or anything, but I think you’ll be able to feel my pulse, if you wear it close enough.” He bites his lower lip, catching the plump flesh with his fangs. “If you want to, that is. I mean, there’s no pressure. And they aren’t traceable over the comms or anything. It’s super old tech- What the _p_ _ryzck_ -!”

He clutches both the softly glowing Ballybran crystals to his chest, dropping the lozenge of the projector into the undergrowth below in surprise and horror, as the air above him reverberates with shock waves. The bright spark of a ship cracking through the thin atmosphere dies as it’s overtaken by smoke, and Keith is half out of the tree, knife transforming into a full sword in his hand as he makes out the shape of a black and purple Garris Viper, listing hard to one side and trailing noxious fumes. He’s moving before it even lands – and landing is a kinder description than crashing even if that is what’s happening – because even though that is _an enemy ship_ , there is only one possible pilot who could be at the controls.

Keith burns his fingers on the metal of the hull, too impatient to wait before punching the exterior control panel, praying and hoping that it wasn’t locked from within. He winces, sticking his fingers in his mouth for a moment, and it is long enough for a hiss of released pressure and a crack to appear between the hull panels. He wrenches them open the rest of the way, heart thudding in his throat as the smoke-filled interior of the Viper is revealed. A control panel is sparking, there are buttons and readouts half obscured under a messy sheen of dark blood, and Shiro is strapped into the single pilot’s chair. His hands are still gripping hard around the joystick and throttle levers, his flight suit is tattered.

“Shiro!”

Keith barely registers what he’s doing as he vaults into the little space, standing between Shiro’s knees, slicing through the straps holding the omega in place with his blade, grabbing Shiro and hauling him up into his arms. He nearly sobs when he feels the other man’s heartbeat against his own, hears the breath rattling in Shiro’s lungs. They fall together out of the cockpit, even though Shiro is not a dead weight, and Keith is stronger than he looks, he’s still big and heavy. They make it away from the smoking ruins of the Viper to the edge of the water by stubbornness alone.

“Shiro?” Keith tries to still the frantic movements of his hands as he lays his friend out across the dense greenery, Shiro’s head pillowed in his lap. “ _Proz_ Shiro….”

He’s bleeding. There is a half-clotted slash over his face, under his eyes. It’s the kind of wound that looks… deliberate. His right arm is hanging at an odd angle, bleeding heavily. Keith remembers his training well enough to use his shrunken knife to slice the upper half of Shiro’s flight suit away from his skin, using the material to wrap around the wound, pulling the arm as gently as he can over the omega’s broad chest. He yanks the sash off from around his own shoulder, looping it carefully to hold Shiro’s arm in place as the omega groans in pain.

“Shiro-!”

“Ke-Keith…” Shiro exhales his name, eyes turning up to find him, and Keith hunches low over his face, cradling Shiro’s jaw in both hands.

“I’m here. Oh Shiro, _piekny_ , I’m here.”

“Keith.” Shiro tries to move his hand, groans, and then the tufted tip of his tail – still remarkably clean and soft – comes up to stroke Keith’s cheek in return. “I found you.”

“Of course. Of course, you found me.” Keith doesn’t dare look away from Shiro’s face to the ruined spacecraft, but his mind reels. Shiro wasn’t supposed to meet him today, he was on a training exercise and couldn’t get away. Keith was hoping his best friend would be able to pick up the paired crystal sometime this movement, but it’s ages until their schedules allow them to actually meet in person. “Shiro? You still with me?

“Mmm… pretty Keith.” Shiro’s words are soft, slightly slurred, and Keith whimpers as he leans into the stroke of Shiro’s tail down his cheek and neck. “It’s OK… I kept you safe.”

“Yes Shiro,” Keith bites back the urge to cry. He can’t cry, he’s an adult now; a Blade. Blades don’t cry. At least, he’s going to pretend he never saw Thace crying over a present Ulaz gave him, because the other alpha had clearly thought he was alone at the time. “I’m always safe with you.” He strokes Shiro’s cheek again. “What happened, Shiro?”

“They…” Shiro pauses to cough, a pained, wretched sound that makes Keith shiver is sympathy, “Sendak- he found out. That I was meeting… someone.” It hurts to listen to Shiro gasping out the words, but Keith needs to know if they are waiting to be ambushed. He needs to know if they can flee back to Marmora. “He didn’t know who… I wouldn’t tell him.” Shiro makes a soft, unhappy bark of pain, trying to curl in on his side, and his tail flicks and gestures across the long cut on his face which Keith already knows will scar. “I wouldn’t tell him.”

Keith feels the growl building in his chest before he can stop himself.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No.” Shiro’s tail wraps tight around Keith’s wrist and Keith hunches over, leaning down until his forehead is touching Shiro’s own. He combs the starstruck silver bangs away with his claws. “Don’t bother. He didn’t cause the crash, not directly anyway. We we’re on a training exercise… I had to change…”

And then the tail around Keith’s wrists slackens and uncoils, Shiro’s entire body conforming to the contours of the ground as he faints.

“SHIRO!”

Keith wastes a precious few tics trying to wake his friend, pressing his ear against his chest to be sure he can still feel his heartbeat. And it is there, strong and steady, slow but firm, keeping Shiro alive in his unconscious state. Keith finally pulls his eyes away from Shiro’s face to scan the sky above, but there are no trails across the sky, no signs of anyone following, and a quick scan from the device hooked into his belt assures him that there is still no other sentient life in the vicinity other than himself and Shiro. If he was being followed, then he lost them.

It takes him another few moments to make the decision, but he’s only putting off the inevitable. He’s not leaving Shiro alone, and there’s no medical assistance on this moon, nice as it is. Only so much can be done with the first aid kit on board Keith’s stealth flyer, and he doesn’t have expertise like Ulaz to be able to mend a broken bone or reset a dislocated shoulder. He knows what he’s going to do.

He’s going to take Shiro back to Marmora, and damn the consequences. No punishment Kolivan might dole out will be worse than life without Shiro in it.

It takes a few moments and no small amount of effort to leave Shiro where he lays, returning to the still smoking but no longer actively burning half wreckage of the Viper he pulled Shiro from. He strips it of anything which looks useful or personal and dumps everything he finds – along with a kit bag he assumes contains clothes – into his own craft, then returns to find Shiro still totally unconscious right where Keith left him. Shiro is bigger than him, and far heavier, but Keith has some experience moving larger people around. It turns out that steering a drunk Regris back to his quarters after a party and carrying a passed out and injured omega the size of Shiro are not at all similar, but he manages.

There’s no second seat in the stealth flyer, and almost no spare space to speak of. Keith pulls out the tiny fold out bunk, and straps Shiro onto it. It’s less of a bed, more of a perch. Shiro mumbles something in his sleep that sounds far too tender for the situation at hand. Keith stares at him for a moment, then slams the system-panel to shut the hatch and leaps into the pilot seat.

“Not quite how I imagined getting you into bed for the first time,” he mutters, hands already flying over the controls as the engine springs to life with the softest of roars. He glances back at his friend, biting his lip, then feels the two crystals in his pocket vibrate together to the beat of his pulse. “But maybe we won’t need to do the long-distance thing any more after all.”

Keith tears his attention away from Shiro and back to the universe outside, lifting away from the lush moon with its humid air and warm waters once more. Only this time, he’s not alone.

*

Keith touches down his customized star-jet in a valley on an uninhabited moon just far enough from Marmora station that he won’t have to explain himself to anyone, least of all his parents. He knows they are waiting for him to return with supplies from his trip to the swap moon. He’s not supposed to stop on the way for sightseeing.

He kills the engine and abandons the jet in the lush woodland, stroking his hand over the red and black striped nose as he goes. He doesn’t need to attach a tracker, he knows these woods like his own reflection in the mirror. There’s no way he could get lost here. The greenery is thick and lush, and the air is practically wet with humidity, and Keith begins to loosen the fastenings at the neck of his suit as he makes his way towards the sounds of water.

Really, it’s amazing there’s no one living on such a nice little moon, but there is another, slightly smaller, spacecraft in the clearing by the water. There’s no sign of the other pilot though, and Keith lifts himself easily into a familiar tree in order to wait.

He doesn’t have to wait long, and uses the time to re-work his braid into a neater twist, and finishes opening the front of his suit, shrugging out of the upper half to gather up the sleeves and knot them around his hips. He still doesn’t always like his unusual markings – whorls and spots like a nebula imprinted on him – but there’s no one around to see. As he stretches upwards, fingers grasping unseeing for an enormous oval leaf with glossy dark green flesh, he hears someone behind him gasp softly, and he turns in a whirl.

The other person is Galra too. His fur is darker than Keith’s, his hair silvery bright at the front, and he has a long tail with a tuft like stardust at the tip. An omega. Keith curls his lip, exposing his fangs to the man who is both older and bigger than he is. He smiles.

The omega gapes at him, apparently stunned, and the luxite knife in his hand flashes brightly and transforms into a sword as long as his arm. He blinks in shock, and drops it. The blade does not slice into his own foot, but it’s a near thing. Keith barks with laughter; the omega looks affronted.

“Hello,” he offers the omega a soft wave, “are you gonna use that? It looks a little big for you.”

“You,” Shiro pouts up at him, “are a brat.”

Keith arches a dark eyebrow. He’d like to keep a straight face, but he can’t help his smile. Shiro is wearing his brand new Blades uniform, and though Keith always knew it would look great on him, he is unprepared for the reality of it.

“Is that any way to greet a Senior Blade, Shiro? You are only newly qualified after all.”

“And you’re not my commanding officer,” Shiro retorts, scooping up his sword and returning it to it’s smaller form. “Kolivan was _very_ clear about that detail.”

“Urgh, don’t remind me.” Keith swings down from the tree and lands in a crouch on the flat rock they placed there so many deca-phoebs ago. “You’re not gonna measure me again?”

“Keith…” Shiro’s grey gaze leaves him, travelling up towards the last set of carvings on the tree trunk, put there six phoebs ago. “I know you haven’t grown again since then. Maybe you’ll get a late second puberty?”

“Change would be a fine thing,” Keith huffs, folding his arms over his narrow chest, staring at the marks on the trunk. Shiro is still six hands taller than him, and apparently that is never going to change. “Early presentation and still the smallest person on the damn base!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Keith rolls his eyes at Shiro, but catches the tail which comes up to wrap around his waist. He coils the prehensile limb around is wrist instead.

“I doubt it means I’ll get any extra space in bed. Especially not after today.” He tugs on Shiro’s tail, stroking the fingers of his other hand through the starlit tuft as the omega steps closer. Shiro is practically standing on his toes. Keith looks at the centre of his broad chest as he speaks again. “Congratulations on your Trial, Shiro. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“Thank you, Keith.”

Keith bites his lip softly, alpha fangs digging into the soft flesh.

“You’re Marmoran now.”

“Yes. So Kolivan said.”

Keith inhales deeply, and the natural scents of the foliage of the moon are faint compared to the intoxicating aroma of the omega. Shiro smells like everyone of Keith very favourite foods, and Keith wants to taste him, finally. He reaches out and wraps a hand around the back of Shiro’s neck, half lifting himself up and half pulling the bigger man down until they are close enough that their noses touch.

“I could take us to the sky, Shiro.” He feels the omega’s tail tighten around his forearm as he says it. “We could leave this place. We could… go anywhere. _Anywhere_.”

“Keith…” Shiro’s voice is low and soft, like it gets when they’re alone, when they can steal away for a dobosh here and there. But it’s not like this, and there’s never any privacy on the Marmora base. “We don’t need to go anywhere else.”

“No?” Keith runs the pad of his thumb over the scent glad at Shiro’s throat, and he watches the other man’s amber eyes go wide and round with the sensation of it. “We don’t?”

Shiro swallows, and Keith only tears his eyes away from the soft movement in time to meet Shiro’s eyes before they are pressing their lips together in the softest kiss Keith thinks it is possible to have. He growls, running his fingers up into Shiro’s dark hair – growing out now from the harsh buzz he’d kept it in whilst living in Garris – pulling Shiro close to him and opening the omega’s mouth with his tongue. Shiro purrs against him, his whole body vibrating with the noise, and Keith makes an answering chuff of pleasure before he crushes the bigger man against his lips.

The kiss feels like it goes on forever and like it lasts no time at all. Keith has nothing to compare it to but he knows he’s not dreaming because he could never imagine how Shiro’s tongue feels against his own in such detail and clarity. Shiro’s scent fills up all his senses, and Keith doesn’t much care how good the omega looks in the Blades suit any more, because he wants to see him out of it. Shiro’s deep purple fur is dark all over, a perfect counterpoint to Keith’s many mixed shades, and Keith can’t wait to see it again. Even though Shiro lives on the base now, it feels like they spend less time together than they did when they were sneaking around. Either way, it’s been a long six phoebs.

They break the kiss only when the need to breathe outweighs their desire to keep kissing, and Keith hangs around Shiro’s neck, panting against his lips. Shiro gazes at him, still purring softly.

“I could still take us somewhere,” Keith repeats softly. “Anywhere you wanted.”

“We haven’t got to go anywhere else, Keith.” he says eventually, his starstruck forelock falling into his eyes, the silver strands blending with Keith’s own space-void black bangs. “They can’t take the moon from us after all.”

Keith snorts, the laugh catching in his throat, because his heart is apparently in the way.

“Sap,” he says, to hide the fact he feels a bit like crying all over again.

“Your sap,” Shiro counters, running a large hand down Keith bare ribs, fingers swirling over the whorls of his darker fur.

Keith’s grin turns sly now, wanting.

“Not yet,” he reminds the omega, his purple eyes sparkling. “But I cannot wait to change that.”

Everyone back on the Marmora base can wait for Keith’s delivery from the swap moon, because first, Keith has another prize to claim.

**Author's Note:**

> The Ballybran crystals referenced in the fic are the tiniest of reverential bows to Anne McCaffrey's epic series The Crystal Singer. You should all go and read them, for Killashandra is the most wonderful heroine. 
> 
> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.


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